


Bloody Valentine

by LightofEvolution, MrBenzedrine89



Series: Bloody Valentine [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Misunderstandings, Prompt Fic, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBenzedrine89/pseuds/MrBenzedrine89
Summary: Post-War. Draco Malfoy gets wind that Hermione is planning a Saint Valentine's Day Massacre -- and he thinks it has something to do with the house elves. How can he get her to stop, without having her arrested and thoroughly ruining his chances with her? Misunderstandings and chaos abounds. A comedy of errors.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SecretAdmirerFicExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SecretAdmirerFicExchange) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Post-War. Draco Malfoy gets wind that Hermione is planning a Saint Valentine's Day Massacre -- and he thinks it has something to do with the house elves. How can he get her to stop, without having her arrested and thoroughly ruining his chances with her? Misunderstandings and chaos abounds. A comedy of errors.

 

 

 

 

 **“Bloody Valentine”** **  
****  
****  
****Prompt/Synopsis: Post-War. Draco Malfoy gets wind that Hermione is planning a Saint Valentine's Day Massacre -- and he thinks it has something to do with the house elves. How can he get her to stop, without having her arrested and thoroughly ruining his chances with her? Misunderstandings and chaos abounds. A comedy of errors.** **  
****  
****Rating: M** **  
****  
** **Beta’d by the lovely DayDreamer1123**

 

 **A collaboration by LightofEvolution and MrBenzedrine** **  
****  
** **Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter, and we will not make a profit from this story. XD However, we probably will gain a few friends.**

**  
**  


* * *

  
  
Draco’s Saturday started off as any other: get up, pilfer some candies out of a first year’s duffle bag, scope out the library for girls with short skirts sitting at tables, and then a quick trip to the Astronomy tower for exercise. He wanted to stay in shape for said girls, after all. And with the Gryffindors hogging the Quidditch pitch, as they usually did, a bloke needed to make due with what he had.

 

Returning to Hogwarts to complete his seventh year hadn’t been nearly as stressful as he expected. _For now_ . Still, it was February, so after his cardio training, Draco returned to the warmer confines of the castle. He thought nothing of the formerly enslaved (now _inconveniently_ free) house elf that sauntered down the corridor in his direction. Nothing until he heard the elf mutter under its breath in passing while wringing its boney, leathery hands.

 

“All the red… red everywhere.... Miss always does what she thinks is best for us, she thinks… too much red… Mipsy is thinking it is too much! Too much!!”  
  
The house elf paused, horrified, as it noticed Draco’s presence. After all, the house elf in question used to belong to the Malfoys before the War. It still baffled Lucius Malfoy to no end how each and every house elf mysteriously was given a sock before his release from Azkaban.  
  
“Sorry, Master Draco. Mipsy can’t take it anymore.” The elf bowed to its feet and left Draco wondering what had caused a war-ridden elf to lose its observant posture like this.  
  
_Odd_ , Draco thought, giving a light shrug. Still, the day was young and so was he, and he didn’t feel like tiring over the musings of a babbling creature on such a friendly morning. On the young Malfoy went down the hallway, unabashed by misgivings or discrepancies until a short, blonde girl turned the corner of the hallway with far too much force and nearly ran smack dab into him. Draco recognized her as Head Girl Olivia Bolivia, a pretty, petite thing with breasts larger than what her frame should carry and a hind end just made for grabbing. (What? He could check her out, even if she was a Ravenclaw. She was of age.)

 

“Oh, now what do we have here?” he smirked, letting his voice drip with confident charm. His hands were gripping her upper arms to stabilize her, a move that provided him a nice view down her blouse. But the girl had no eyes for him or his impressive form.  
  
“She’s a danger to us unsuspecting pupils, that one. I suspect they didn’t check her thoroughly after the War.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“That Granger!” The Head Girl calling the other witch anything besides ‘Hermione’ should have given him a clue about the severity of the situation. But it didn’t. Olivia huffed in anger and threw her hands up in a universal gesture of crazy and rushed off into the opposite direction, showing the young man her curvy derriere.  
  
_Wonder what that Granger’s up to, ruffling up such pretty things like that_ , he thought. It was no secret the curly-haired bookworm detested giving up the Head Girl badge because ‘technically’ she was an eighth year, and Hogwarts tradition dictated a seventh year be awarded the position. Still, she’d done pretty well at not upsetting the order of things. Whatever was going on between Olivia and Granger… he only hoped it could end in a heated argument where the two girls fought it out in a tub of pudding, stripped down to their lacy undergarments.

 

The thought elated him so much (What? Pureblood or not, he was a hot-blooded male in his prime!), he almost crashed into a ladder standing in the middle of the corridor around the next corner.

 

“Ah, Olivia, you finally came to your senses. Good for you! You will see, the theme is much more convincing when we don’t go for imitations, but for the real things. Of course, that means-”

 

Draco heard the voice from above and easily identified it as Granger’s, who apparently thought he was Olivia and thus kept talking to him about some nonsense or the other. Though, he couldn’t concentrate on what the woman was babbling about, for he was far too distracted by the perfect rounds covered in tight muggle jeans waving precariously atop the ladder.  
  
“-ahem.” Draco cleared his throat, staring up at the brunette as she tilted her head down to discover him.  
  
“Oh. It’s you.” Granger held onto the ladder with one arm while searching the hallway in all directions. “Did you happen to run into Olivia on your way to-” she glanced back to him again “-wherever you were off to?”  
  
“I did,” Draco smirked. “Tell me, Granger, is it simply a natural talent of yours to manage to piss off everyone who doesn’t see eye to eye with you, or do you work on it in your dorm on your time off?”  
  
“Well, it doesn’t appear you’re eye to eye with me at the moment, does it?”  
  
It took a moment for the blond to soak in her words and register them. If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he might have considered it flirting. Or, perhaps, that was just his hormones coming into play. Merlin, he needed to get laid soon. Even Hermione Granger was looking fetching in this lighting…

 

He swore he saw a mischievous spark in her eyes before she went on, “But even _your_ input could be valued. What do you think of the color red, Malfoy?”  
  
Oh, he could give plenty _input_ , he thought to himself. “I think it needs to be taken out back and _avada_ ’d. You Gryffindors have simply ruined the color for anyone else.”

 

She ignored his statement like a pro and resumed measuring whatever with a tape--a _muggle_ measuring tape, to be precise.

 

“But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s the perfect color for this year’s Valentine’s Day celebration. You know, red like love, but also like _everyone’s_ blood-” he zoomed out because of the alluring backside wiggling from side to side. Had she always been like this? Obviously, his distraction led to him only capturing fragments of what Granger was currently explaining in great length to him.

 

“1920s... underestimated… massacre… turned out…” Draco didn’t bother with the details. His head tilted to the side in wonder as Granger swayed on the ladder, occasionally lifting higher or lower and bringing or taking the delightful arse with her. “I asked the house elves to help out, but they seem weary of the idea.”  
  
Idea? Shit, he hadn’t been listening at all, had he? “Hmm?”  
  
“During the dance. Mipsy has reservations about the house elves becoming involved, but I told her it’s time to stand up and be accounted for! You know? I said, ‘No one will take you seriously unless you take yourself seriously.’ She insists elves aren’t supposed to shoot arrows. I told her to read Lord of the Rings.” Granger giggled at some inside joke Draco didn’t quite understand. “Anyway, when I’m through with this dance, the entire floor will be painted in crimson.”

 

She looked at him as if she expected some reaction. Being a guy, he shrugged his shoulders and made a noncommittal noise, adding, “Sounds good,” for good measure, hoping she’d turn around again.

  
“Really?” she grinned at him, doing exactly the opposite and climbing down the stairs to stand eye level with him on the rungs. “You mean it?”  
  
“Sure,” he said, taking a moment to assess the freckles on her nose and her sweeping eyelashes. “I mean… it makes… hold on. Come again? Arrows?”  
  
Granger hopped off of the ladder, sticking her measuring tape into a beaded bag at the ladder’s edge. She didn’t address his concerns, instead swinging the bag over her shoulder and muttering to herself, “Olivia Bolivia won’t know what hit her come Valentine’s Day. Of course, she wouldn’t know a good thing if it came and shot her straight in the heart, would she?” A look of determination skittered across her features. “Thanks for your input, Malfoy. It’s good to know I have a partner in crime on the Slytherin side.”  
  
Crime? What crime? Draco never agreed to any crime! “Err… Granger.” He put a finger up to plead his case, but the happy-go-lucky bookworm had already turned in the opposite direction, a skip in her step as she rounded the corner and out of sight.

 

Draco Malfoy knew what it felt to have stepped in deep hippogriff shit. Exactly like this. Was Granger off her rocker? What in the seven Hells could she possibly mean by ‘crime’ and ‘shot her straight in the heart’ and… oh. OH. The arrows. The crimson. “ _She’s a danger to us unsuspecting pupils, that one. I suspect they didn’t check her thoroughly after the War.”_ Massacre. Granger had used the word massacre, hadn’t she? _1920s…_

 

Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces fell into place and, using Ockham’s razor, led the young wizard to one conclusion: Hermione Granger meant to recreate the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre from the 1920’s. And House elves and arrows were her weapons of choice.  


* * *

  
  
Draco lay in wait, his eyes never leaving the spot where the entrance to the Room of Requirements was supposed to be.

 

What was Granger up to? What had pulled her to the dark side? For sure it couldn’t be a power hungry father like in his case, nor could it be the expectations of a maniac who had branded his mark on Draco’s skin. Maybe his crazy aunt had tipped her over? After all, there were many examples of how people behaved differently after a traumatic incident. Or could the darkness have been within her all this time? The bottomless knowledge she possessed - a result of a deal with the Devil? One could only wonder...

 

His musings were interrupted, and quite pleasantly so, as it turned out. Granger emerged from whatever room she created, and Draco’s breath got caught in his throat. If this was the outfit she decided to wear on her twisted crusade, she’d have at least all the males so pliant at her feet that she could easily _Imperio_ them to do her bidding.  
  
She wore thin, tight pants that stretched over every lucious curve of her hips, thighs, and hind, matched with a strip of clothing across her breasts and shoulders, which covered little more than a bra, but still left too much to the imagination. Her hair was pulled back in an attempt at a bun, but loose strands of curls stuck up at odd angles, giving her a similar appearance to his deceased Aunt Bella in her youth. It was quite daunting as she tilted her head back and sipped on fresh water from some sort of plastic canister, giving a breathy sigh of relief when she was through.

 

He must have mirrored the sound, because her eyes whipped over to him. Caught red handed, he gulped sheepishly and waved from his corner of the hall. Merlin, it was entirely too hot in here, wasn’t it? Nevermind the February winds… this hallway was a furnace!

 

“Malfoy.” She tilted her head in greeting, but that only made him see the layer of sweat that reflected on her flushed skin.

 

“Granger. Uh… what did you do in there?” Best be straightforward with the witches, his father taught him; the girls needed to know what awaited them.  
  
“Preparing,” she replied, giving a sultry staredown to the Malfoy heir while chewing on her lower lip with her teeth. Draco found it difficult to concentrate.  
  
“What for?” he asked, thinking of flobberworms and skrewts to keep his rising… problems at bay. One particular problem was only hidden by a thin scrap of clothing, after all…  
  
“For Valentine’s Day, of course,” she answered, furrowing her eyebrows. “I told you about it, or have you forgotten already?” She brought a finger to her lips, and that’s when Draco noticed it dripped with blood.

 

“Where did the blood come from?” He tried to control his voice, but couldn’t help but notice a slight hitch in it. Now whether it was from his initial fear or the fact she looked entirely too switched on at the moment, he couldn’t decide.

 

Her perfect lips curled up in a devilish smile as she observed the cut. “I guess I got a bit… _excited_ .”  
  
“Excited?” Draco heard himself squeak. Merlin, he felt excited right now… and frightened. They said when humans became frightened, the fight or flight system took over automatically --so why did he, instead, turn into a puddle of mush in her intimidating presence?

 

“Yes. It happens a lot recently. Doesn’t it happen to you, too, sometimes?”

 

He had the sudden urge to cross his legs to hide his state of excitement, but that would only make things worse, wouldn’t it?

 

“Maybe you want to join me on another day? You could stop me before I go too far with things. Harry and Ron used to do that, though they had years of practice.” Her eyes trailed down his form yet again, and she giggled, “But perhaps you should wear something else other than slippers and a jumper.” Hermione winked playfully at him as if the whole ordeal was unbelievably funny as she sauntered down the hall, peeking over her shoulder every ten feet or so. Her hips swung tantalizingly as she rounded the hall, distracting Draco. But, when she finally was out of sight, the realization hit him like a falling hippogriff from the skies: Hermione Granger was in too deep. Practically begging for someone to pull her out from her darkness. _You could stop me before I go too far with things._ -Just how far did she intend to go?  
  
Maybe it was time for Draco Malfoy to rise from the ashes and become a knight in shining armor for a damsel in distress? It would certainly be a first in his family’s history.

 

* * *

  


Thankfully, the woman he had set his eyes on behaved quite predictably when it came to her studying habits. That was why, on the evening of February 11th, he strolled through the rows of the library, his grey eyes restlessly searching for a curly mob of brown hair that was so characteristically Granger. Finally --because who knew that there were so many books in here?-- he spotted her, hunched over a table in the section about Dark Magic.

 

He smirked triumphantly, even if no one saw it. She was in muggle clothes again; her cardigan had fallen to the floor next to her chair, and he had a nice view of her white blouse and what appeared to be a dark blue bra underneath. Lace? Silk? Push-up? He hoped not the last one. False advertisement, is what that was.

 

He forcibly cleared his head of all naughty thoughts. He needed to focus now, and that meant he had to keep his blood in his head and not between his legs.

  
“Well, well, well… predictable Granger,” he drawled, curling around the table to meet her face-to-face. It was more than mildly disappointing when he learned she was fast asleep, her mouth parted and resting atop a thick, black tome which read, ‘One Thousand and One Ways to Take Down a Wizard Without a Wand.’   

  
The title made him gulp audibly, undoubtedly one of the dark works that fit perfectly into his home library. And she had such easy access to it? Maybe she _Imperius’ed_ the librarian as well?  
  
Draco reached for the book, ready to soak in its dark contents in hopes of understanding Granger’s diabolical plan in full detail, but when he tried to pry it from underneath her, Hermione pulled the book closer, as if it were a comfy pillow and not a firm bit of paper and leather. Some things, he surmised, would always be a part of her, and her love of books was one of those things.  
  
What forced this pretty creature before him to jump off the deep end and plan such a horrific undertaking on the most romantic of holidays? The past few days, he’d searched the library for lists of dark objects, but none could explain her bitter need to shoot up the school (and involve house elves, of all things)! Honestly, didn’t her love for them stay her hand at all? Or had S.P.E.W. gotten to her head?  
  
He wished he could understand what went on in her brilliant mind.  
  
“Mmm… Draco…” she muttered, eyes still closed.  
  
Shit. Did she know he was here?  
  
“Draco… you have to do it harder…”  
  
Well, something was harder for sure, and it rested inside his boxer-briefs.  


With almost inhuman effort, he tried to catch some of the phrases at the top of the pages the witch was still clutching.

 

He braced himself for something like, _‘take two spoons of aconite, put it into his favorite morning tea and serve it with a smile’_ , but instead he read,

 

_Gentle, seemingly coincidental touches will get him used to your physical presence,_

 

and,

 

 _Advanced tactics, unit 3:_ __  
_a) “My inner witch is burning, use your wand to douse the fire?” - note: let your eyes wander down to his loins here._ __  
_b) Thread your fingers through his belt loop and then release him. -note: men are like fish, and they need to follow the bait._   
c) If you’re feeling extra daring, ‘accidentally’ drop your wand and bend over to pick it up. Slowly.

 

With him imagining Granger following every rule in the book, Draco knew he was lost. She wanted to seduce him because she knew _he_ knew her secret plans! That must be it.

 

And boy did it work. Just picturing her bending over for him made him retreat from the library at once, in the direction of his dormitories, to rub one off in the shower. For the greater good, of course. He would stay _hard_ and vigilant.

 

* * *

 

 

Valentine’s Day came with blinding sunshine reflecting on the snow. All morning, Draco searched the castle for Hermione, to no avail. She wasn’t in the library, nor in the Great Hall where Olivia Bolivia started the decorations on her own. He couldn’t find her anywhere; he even checked the Astronomy Tower.

 

The dread of the upcoming catastrophe constricted Draco’s heart, and as time went by and the sun set, making space for darkness, the young wizard grew desperate. Where was Hermione Granger?

 

It started shortly before dinner.

 

The house elf he saw when he left the bathroom wore a symbolic red cozie over his bat-like ears. And a quiver and a bow.

 

Swallowing his pride, he addressed the creature, albeit he was careful not to touch it. “Stop whatever you are doing!” he yelled (that tone had worked once), but the ugly thing merely scrunched his tiny face and snarled at Draco, “You wait. Now, it is goings to be your turn!”  
  
Then it aimed its bow at the unassuming Malfoy. Draco saw his life flash before his eyes -all the sexual positions he had yet to try, all of the food he never got to taste, as well as the women - _plink_! Something quivered in front of his eyes, and when he focused, he realized it was the arrow, driven perfectly into the grout of the wall, with a small scroll attached to it.

 

“What the bloody…” he began to ask the house elf, but it had disappeared from sight, no doubt to spread carnage. He plucked the rolled up parchment from the arrow, unraveled it, and read it silently to himself.

 

_Need you to move my Valentine’s Day plans along._

_RoR._

_H._  


This was it. The final showdown. Should he go to the Headmistress? No, she was already lost, bending to Granger’s every will. Alerting the Ministry? As if they would believe him. He would be an ex-Death Eater crying wolf in their eyes. Potty and the Weasel? A definite no. They couldn’t solve the crosswords in Witch Weekly without _her_.

 

Suddenly, he remembered something his late grandfather told him once and his cowardly father had forgotten, _Malfoys don’t run, Draco. You always have to stand your  ground_.

 

Maybe he could give in to her advances for show and then stun her? He’d take her to St. Mungo’s for mental health exams. Yes, that could work. It had to…

 

With a decisive snap of his fingers, Draco hastened in the direction of his dorm. He wouldn’t be so careless to come unprepared.  
  
He ruffled through his Quidditch gear, strengthening the shoulder guards, knee guards, and… jewels cup. Merlin knew they were his most precious assets, of course. He still had yet to produce an heir to the Malfoy fortunes. Until that was squared away (years from now) he would need to keep them protected at all cost. He added thick wards to his Quidditch uniform, repelling spells and the like, and double laced his boots with exact precision. No need to stumble into enemy grounds. Even if falling into his enemy’s chest was something out of a fantasy…  
  
Could he do this? Could he really take her down? She was the smartest witch of her age, yes, but there was one thing most everyone forgot: for every bright witch, there was an equally bright wizard. Draco was fairly confident he fit the bill.

 

With his wand gripped tight in his hand, he checked his hair in the mirror. He still needed to look handsome if he were to approach the witch of his desires -er, strategic battle plans. He’d stop her before she ordered the elves further into this frenzy. Maybe after a psychiatric evaluation at St. Mungo’s, she’d be flattered he’d wanted to help and accept an invitation for tea? Hah. And house elves could fly with little feathered wings…  


 

* * *

 

 

He paced back and forth three times in front of the damned Room of Wishes, demanding ‘the room where Granger waits for me.’ Obediently, the door opened for him.

 

The area was dimly lit, a fireplace crackling in the background. He spotted a table beneath the window, undoubtedly that was where she polished her torture instruments.

Candles floated up and down. Of course, she’d need some light to finish him off.

 

“Draco.” The voice was low and velvety, sending excited shivers down his spine. “I knew you’d come.” She stepped into view. Now, that was a battle wear! She wore a deep red dress, hugging her curves perfectly and flaring out from the waist down. Her feet were bare, which made no sense at all. But massacres never did.  
  
“I told you I’d be here for you,” he said, a lump forming in his throat. The Quidditch gear felt itchy against his skin, but he refused to acknowledge it. “But, Hermione-” he watched her visibly shudder at her name.  
  
“You’re all dressed up. Just come from Quidditch practice?” Her tone was heavy, laced with appreciation.  
  
Draco straightened his shoulders and shook his head. “Protection.”  


Her face tilted to the side and she smiled almost shyly, “Not the kind of protection I had in mind, but a lovely gesture. And very… pleasing to look at.” Her pink tongue darted forward to glide over her bottom lip.

 

“I won’t fall into your seductive trap so you can bathe the school in crimson blood!” Draco lashed out, unable to bear the tension a second longer, his fingers firmly gripping his wand.

 

The temptress blinked slowly. Once. Twice.

 

Then, a very Malfoy-ish smirk creeped over her face. She approached him like a predator now--deliberately, slowly. Her eyes locked with his, and it would be so easy to get lost in those big, chocolate orbs. _Snap out of it Malfoy! You have to wait for the perfect moment to take your aim!_ he reminded himself.

 

“You’ve forgotten to safeguard your most valuable weapon, Draco.”  
  
Glancing down to his protective cup, Draco sighed a breath of relief. What was she going on about? His wand was still in his hand, and his other weapon of brandishment was snugged securely beneath the confines of his protective wear…  
  
Hermione giggled, drawing his attention back up to her face. She looked at the spot between his eyes and tapped it. “No, Draco. Your brain.” She turned away from him, back exposed, and sauntered forward.

 

 _Now’s my chance,_ Draco thought, but he became lost in the tantalizing swing of her hips. He licked his lips, now suddenly so dry, and salivated at the sight.  
  
“Then again,” she said, “I could overestimate you. You _did_ come here, alone, on a day when everyone else is occupied. I’m not sure if that’s out of wit or hormones.”  
  
Hormones? Oh, she didn’t need to get him started on hormones. His were driving him up the wall, begging him to give in and reach out to touch her round hind…  
  
“Hermione, I think you need to stop this. What you’re planning is dangerous, and… and I can’t let you go on with it.” He puffed out his chest.

 

As if someone had spoken a key word, she broke in front of his eyes. Her hands covered her face, her shoulders were shaking. Wild, unhinged sounds came from her throat. “I can’t keep up this charade anymore,” she sobbed, and Draco felt deep confusion.

 

“I’m giving up. I don’t know how you Slytherins do it all the time.”

 

Misguided, she was. Slytherins had a knack for getting into trouble, yes, but what she spoke of was on a totally other level. He stepped forward to envelope her in a hug as he had so often seen Gryffindors partake in.

 

Just when he had wrapped his arms around her petite figure, she raised her head, undoubtedly to thank him for his interfering. Hero of the day and all. Tears were still running down her reddened cheeks, and he had the urge to wipe them away with his thumb.

 

Then Draco discovered she wasn’t crying--she was laughing!

 

“I haven’t had this much fun in years, Draco, thank you.” Her fingers idly played with the lacing on his chest. “You didn’t _really_ think I was up to something evil, did you?”

 

“Uhmmm -no?”

 

“ _Draco!_ ”

 

“It fit together so logically, you rambling something about massacres… and giving out bows and arrows to house elves…”  
  
“Yes, as a theme!” She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m in charge of the dance tonight, Draco! It’s what I’ve been working on all week!”  
  
“The dance?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Not a massacre?”  
  
“A massa-- oh, for the love of house elves! No!” She giggled. “I’ve been trying to tie in the 1920s setting. It was such a romantic era!”  
  
“And it also involved a bloodbath! On Valentine’s Day!”  
  
“ _Someone_ has a wild imagination.”  
  
“So the house elves-”  
  
“-are passing out Valentines.”  
  
“And all that bit about painting the Great Hall in crimson?”  
  
“Red is the traditional color of Valentine’s Day! At least, it is the most ungendered color. Pink would have been over the top, don’t you think?”  
  


“I have to admit… I didn’t think too much. I was a bit, uhm- distracted.” He really had to work on his wording; his father would have thrown a fit.

 

“Distracted? How so?”

 

“Your book! The one I found you hunched over in the library. And you were using all those tactics from it, trying to seduce me! To keep me distracted so I wouldn’t thwart your evil… now that I say that, it sounds rather idiotic.”

 

“Yes! Maybe you should have your mental health checked?” Her tone was playful -thankfully. And it did nothing to lessen his embarrassment. Just when he wanted to start his first try at an apology _ever_ , she spoke again.

 

“Did it work?”  
  
“Huh?” he belted out automatically, not entirely sure what she meant.  
  
“The um… the tactics. Did they…” she stepped forward, and her hand came out, fingers curling in his belt loops, just the way it said in the book “...work?” Draco then realized that book was entirely correct: men were like fish, and he was one who thoroughly enjoyed taking the bait.  
  
“Yes,” he said, reaching out and wrapping his slender fingers around her waist, moving down to her arse to -finally- give it a squeeze. It was heavenly, and toned, and -fuck, was she wearing any undergarments beneath that dress? “You know, I feel rather foolish in all of this gear, now. Perhaps you’d like to… help me out of it?”  


“Of course.” Her fingers wandered towards his belt buckle, and he inhaled sharply in anticipation. “After all, you have only about twenty minutes left to get into your dashing dress robes.”

 

His frustration must have been visible to her (though, thanks to the jewel cup, the situation down there was invisible to her), because she gave him a mischievous smile.

 

“I’ve worked so hard for this dance. And afterwards, I’m more than willing to help you out of them to show my… dedication to the day of lovers.”  
  
So maybe Hermione Granger wasn’t Hell-bent on a murder spree in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. But she certainly made a favorable companion to the Valentine’s Day dance that evening, and her… oral dedication later in the evening more than made up for the stress she’d inadvertently put him through during the month.  
  
Maybe he should pay more attention when a woman was speaking.

  
Heh, _yeah_ , he thought, _when house elves fly_.

 

It had to suffice that he paid attention when one certain, brown-eyed and curly-haired witch was speaking (but only for her).

  


* * *

 

 **So, there is an extended version of this fic, 2,000 more words, which Light and I will post after this prompt is gifted. <3 More comedy. More errors. This is the second official prompt I've ever taken on, and Light's first, and the admins were very kind to us, even when we got out of hand with the wordcount. **  
**With love**  
**MrBenzedrine and LightofEvolution.**


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